Bed of Nails
by Kit Spooner
Summary: The Miyako-Fic to end all Miyako-Fics. [Part Four - She Makes Me Wait : A date is planned. Kind of. Much discussion ensues.] Rated for suggestive themes and excessive use of vulgarity. [incomplete]
1. Prologue

**Bed of Nails**

**A Digimon Fanfiction**

**by Kit Spooner**   
  
  
  


Disclaimer: Oh, just sod off! (And apologies to U2)   
  


Warnings: Yep. I'm going to write a naughty Digimon fic. And I'm enjoying myself thoroughly. My favorite DD is, of course, Miyako, and any fic that features a high-school-aged Miyako must also feature Miyako-of-the-Loose-Morals. *cackles* So this prologue (and the rest of the fic) features frank, explicit discussions of sex, peppered with relatively inappropriate butchering of the English language. Oh, and a healthy dose of four-letter words. Funfun.   
  


Pairing Warnings: Kouyako, Kensuke, Yamasorachi (is that a real word?), Jyoumi, and hints of all sorts of other crap. Blah. The ending of Digimon 02 sucks big, fat monkey ass. I think we're all in agreement here, so I won't bother to explain my reasoning behind my pairings.   
  
  
  


_See the stone set in your eyes   
See the thorn twist in your side   
I wait for you   
Slight of hand and twist of fate   
On a bed of nails she makes me wait   
And I wait . . . without you _   
  
  
  


**Prologue**   
  


Sex wasn't anything like what Miyako expected. It wasn't the sort of transcendent, life-altering experience that the poets hinted at. It wasn't pure or beautiful or even gloriously numinous. It certainly wasn't the ultimate expression of romantic love found in all the smutty romance novels Miyako read when no one was watching. The truth was rather less glamorous. 

Sex was messy. It was brief and awkward and endlessly flawed. Male and female bodies were designed to fit together, but even nature wasn't perfect in her planning. There always seemed to be a lot of fumbling, near-misses that often resulted in bumped noses and elbowed ribs. Love-talk wasn't at all poetic; it tended toward the vulgar and the inarticulate, featuring more grunts than declarations of undying love. 

Romance novels also failed to mention the squelching noises and the stained sheets. Sex also had a strange smell. 

In fact, sex was frequently unsatisfying and occasionally painful. It generally left Miyako sore and bruised in ways she couldn't anticipate. Sex was also just a little bit degrading, even to Miyako, who viewed being socially unacceptable as an amusing pastime. It was something that no reasonably sane person would try more than once or twice. 

To put it bluntly, Miyako loved it. 

At the moment, she was finishing up a round with Daisuke, her best friend and occasional lover, as they sprawled together in an untidy tangle in the soft underbrush behind their high school Their relationship had never really progressed beyond a sort of on-again-off-again adventure in sexual exploration, but they were both completely content with the situation. If nothing else, the sex was great. 

Daisuke had lost his virginity at fifteen to Miyako, who had lost hers a year or so earlier. It had been an educational experience for them both and it led to an increasingly vast repertoire of sexual techniques for their use. They'd continued to experiment occasionally, since both agreed that their relationship was nothing if not completely unromantic and casual sex wouldn't be hurting anyone. 

This time, Miyako came quite a bit earlier than Daisuke and had to wait patiently while he finished before relaxing and settling back against their little nest of discarded clothing and crushed greenery. 

Daisuke came to rest on his stomach beside her, legs twined with hers, his fingers idly tracing patterns across her sweat-sheened abdomen. "So . . . what did you think?" he finally asked, staring off vacantly into the dense shrubbery. 

"It was . . ." Miyako paused, searching for an appropriate adjective to describe their latest erotic adventure. "Well, I suppose we can mark it off on the Checklist." The Checklist was a comprehensive listing of all the assorted sexual techniques and positions they had compiled from The Joy of Sex, a dog-eared copy of the Kama Sutra, and several hilarious rounds of Internet research. Miyako and Daisuke were determined to finish up the Checklist before graduating high school. Unless Miyako somehow managed to fail off of her final exams this last year of high school, however, it wasn't likely to happen. They were not quite a third of the way through the List. 

"I was going to suggest we check it off and then forget about it," Daisuke replied. He gingerly rubbed the muscles of his lower back. "I don't think human spines are supposed to bend like that." 

"Hey, and you weren't the one with your feet behind your ears!" Miyako retorted, carefully massaging the gentle hollow of her hip joints. "I'm going to be walking funny for a week." 

"Well, that's nothing new," Daisuke retorted with a grin. 

"Brat," Miyako said, sticking her tongue out at him. 

"Hey!" Daisuke began to wiggle his eyebrows lasciviously. "Don't stick that out unless you intend to use it!" 

The pair erupted into giggles which were quickly silenced to prevent discovery. There were still a few other students lingering on school grounds, even this late in the evening. 

"Why did we have to pick the bushes?" Miyako muttered. 

Daisuke shrugged and began to pick leaves out of Miyako's long hair. "It was convenient." He loved Miyako's hair and used any excuse he could come up with to get his fingers on the silky strands. "At least we didn't have to go far after school." 

Miyako gave him a penetrating stare. "Do I sense a hint of future plotting from you, my dear Dai?" 

Daisuke made a rather noncommittal sound. 

"Aha!" Miyako sat up and poked Daisuke in the chest, ignoring his wince. "You've got something in mind." 

"Suspicious wench," Daisuke grumbled, looking a little sheepish. Miyako was an expert at reading her friend's expressions and this was no exception. 

"You've found a new girl!" Miyako squealed happily, forgetting to be quiet in her exuberance. "Who is she? Do I know her?" 

"Er . . . it's not who you'd expect," Daisuke said carefully, actually looking slightly uncomfortable. 

Miyako raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you're considering a relationship with someone for reasons beyond simple fuckability?" asked Miyako, whose sexual voracity was matched only by her obsession with meddling in her friends' love lives. 

"Yes," Daisuke said firmly. "That would be a definite 'yes.'" 

"Hmm . . ." Miyako tapped her chin thoughtfully. "So it's someone I know and it's someone you want an actual, legitimate relationship with. That means it's someone you can talk to, someone you can spend non-sexual time with." She gave Daisuke a sly, sidelong glance. "Perhaps someone you can even play soccer with?" 

Daisuke goggled. "How the fuck did you know?!" he demanded. 

Miyako simply continued to smile benignly. "Weren't you aware that I know everything, Dai?" She batted her eyelashes adorably. 

"Be serious!" Daisuke growled, his face crimson. 

"You and Ken have been eyeing each other since you were twelve," Miyako pointed out. "It wasn't hard to guess. We both know that you've never been terribly serious about all those girls you've dated over the years. Or about me, for that matter. We've all just been practice. You're working up to the Big One. The risk." Miyako paused and gave Daisuke a brief kiss. "I think you're in love with Ken." 

Daisuke stared at Miyako for a long moment, then all the tension melted from his shoulders and he sagged into her embrace. "Am I that goddamn obvious about it?" he asked plaintively. "Do I have a gigantic sign over my head that reads, 'I Wanna Screw Ichijouji?'" 

"Of course not, dearest," she replied, smoothing his hair down affectionately. "But you certainly couldn't hide something like this from your best friend, who is incidentally the best lay you'll ever have." There wasn't much that Miyako hated more than false modesty. 

"Yeah, right," Daisuke snorted as he snuggled more comfortably against Miyako. "But it brings up a good question for you to answer: Who are you going to tackle while I'm hunting down a whiz kid?" 

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Miyako mused. Now that she'd finished smoothing Daisuke's hair she began to ruffle it once more. "I'd _love_ to make a play for Yamato, but he and Sora and Taichi are still in the middle of whatever the hell is going on between the three of them." She shook her head. "I think Sora's going out with Taichi this week, but I'm not so sure." 

"Does Sora know that you caught Taichi and Yamato making out at the bus stop last week?" Daisuke loved discussing the older kids' love lives because it took much of the pressure off of his own. 

"Nope," Miyako replied cheerfully, "But I've been dropping hints like mad. I think she's beginning to suspect." 

"Taichi and Yamato are scared she's gonna find out because then she'll drop both of 'em." Daisuke chuckled. 

"Sora needs to stop trying to pick _one_ of the boys," Miyako proclaimed in a no-nonsense sort of voice. "If anyone can make a threesome relationship work it's Sora. Of course, Taichi and Yamato would probably piss themselves with joy if she ever told 'em that." She shook her head. "Those three have some ridiculous amounts of unresolved sexual tension going on." 

Daisuke shrugged vaguely, not quite sure what Miyako was blathering about. "Whatever you say, Miyako." 

"So, no Yamato for me," Miyako sighed mournfully. She was making it a life-long goal to date every one of the Digidestined before they all got married off. So far she had already dated, in the loosest sense of the word, Taichi, Sora, Mimi, Iori, Takeru, Ken, and Daisuke. Daisuke personally thought it very unlikely that she'd _ever_ get Hikari to go out with her, since 'Kari showed no signs whatsoever of swinging Miyako's way, despite her obvious affection for her bespectacled Jogress partner. Yamato was probably a lost cause as well. He didn't seem interested in girls at _all._ Except for Sora, of course. 

"Maybe I ought to have a go at Koushiro again," Miyako murmured thoughtfully into Daisuke's hair. "I haven't even _seen_ him in months. 

"What about Jyou?" Daisuke asked curiously. "Or did you boff him on the sly and forget to mention it to me?" He poked her belly accusingly. 

Miyako squirmed away from his prodding finger. "Don't be ridiculous, Dai," she scolded. "I finally had to promise Mimi that I wouldn't try to date him." 

Daisuke's eyes widened and he stared at Miyako. "You're shitting me!" 

Miyako shook her head firmly. 

"What the hell did Mimi have to do to wring that promise out of you?" Daisuke was truly shocked. It was no secret that Miyako had been coveting Jyou's skinny ass for a few months now, despite the fact that he was out of convenient shagging range, safe at medical school. 

Now it was Miyako's turn to smile wickedly. "Mimi's giving me play-by-play reports of her times with Jyou." She stretched sensuously. "It's almost as good as sleeping with him myself." 

Daisuke pouted. "And you weren't planning on telling me?" 

"You never asked," Miyako noted primly. 

Daisuke sat up and waved his arms in a gesture of defeat. "Everyone's against me!" 

Miyako giggled and began to slowly put her clothes back on. She was due to work her shift at the convenience store tonight and a shower would be nice beforehand. Daisuke soon followed suit and carelessly pulled on his boxers. 

"So," Daisuke began casually as he rummaged around in the bushes for his shirt. "Koushiro, you say?" Daisuke wasn't very good at subtlety and the complete lack of interest in his tone clued Miyako in. 

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Miyako sat down to button up the shirt of her uniform. "What are you suggesting?" 

"I thought you said you didn't date virgins?" he asked with a hint of a smile. "Because it's too much trouble breaking them in, or something?" 

"Hey! I went out with you, didn't I?" Miyako looked a little offended. Damn him for actually listening to her for once. 

"And Iori," Daisuke agreed, "But we were both special cases. Me? Well, I've got this whole animal magnetism thing going on . . ." He paused to flex one rather scrawny bicep, then dodged Miyako's wild swing. "And Iori . . . well, that was just to complete your collection of the younger Digi-Boys. And you didn't sleep with him, right?" 

Miyako rolled her eyes at him and began pulling her socks and shoes on. 

Daisuke frowned slightly. "You _didn't_ sleep with him, _right_?!" 

"Of course not, you moron!" Miyako half-shouted. "He's still just a kid! And it'd be like boffing my little brother." 

"Point taken." Daisuke wrinkled his nose a little. 

"And how do you know Koushiro's a virgin?" Miyako demanded. 

Daisuke sighed. He'd forgotten how wound up Miyako got when he brought up the subject of Izumi Koushiro. He'd never really found out how deep Miyako's old crush on the red-headed computer whiz went, but he suspected that she'd never really gotten over him completely. 

"I do _talk_ to Izumi, Miyako," Daisuke noted. "You're not the only one who knows him." 

"He was _here_?!" Miyako looked a little panicked, her voice shrill. "When? Where? Why didn't you tell me?!" She grabbed Daisuke by the shoulders and shook him emphatically. 

"He wasn't _here_-here," Daisuke said quickly, trying to stave off a Grade-A Miyako-Attack. "I talk to him online sometimes. That's it. And he didn't actually _admit_ to being virginal, but I could tell by the way he reacted to stuff I said." 

Miyako stared, suddenly torn between fury and laughter. "What the hell were you talking to him about?!" 

"Uh . . . guy stuff." Daisuke shrugged. "You know." 

Miyako was tempted, for several heartbeats, to bang Daisuke's head against the brick wall of the school. Then reason reasserted itself and she decided that it probably wouldn't do any good. Daisuke had a ridiculously thick skull. "You're impossible," she accused. 

"Aren't I?" Daisuke grinned and finished reassembling his clothing. "Wanna go grab a soda before you're due back at the 'Mart?" 

"Your treat?" Miyako gave Daisuke one of her patented Charming Smiles. 

"I guess." Daisuke, even after years of associating with Miyako, was still not immune to the power of the Smile. 

"Excellent." Miyako stood up and smoothed down her uniform skirt, the Izumi Issue apparently forgotten. "Lead the way." 

Daisuke grumbled, grabbed his bookbag, and stalked out of the shrubbery. Somehow, he'd been conned into paying for Miyako's afternoon snack. It seemed to happen a lot these days. 

"Your t-shirt's on backwards," Miyako noted as she followed in a more stately manner, bag slung neatly over her shoulder. 

"Yeah, well fuck you, Miya," he muttered. 

"You already did, dear," Miyako sang out. She laughed at Daisuke's mutinous expression and darted ahead, skipping down the sidewalk toward the pair's favorite cafe. 

Daisuke continued to stomp along at his usual pace, eyeing Miyako's hips as they swayed with each step. The benefit of their high school's uniforms was that the skirts did such a fabulous job of lovingly highlighting the gentle flare of a girl's hips. It was a genuine treat to simply watch Miyako sashay down the sidewalk. 

_It's not fair the way she always gets the better of me,_ Daisuke thought, eyes still fixed to the back of Miyako. And from the way her swishing was growing more exaggerated, he kinda thought she knew he was watching. 

_I sure hope Izumi can take her down a notch or two,_ he decided, with a slightly malicious grin. _Miyako's always getting to bitch at me about my fucked up relationships. It might be kinda nice to watch her flounder for once . . ._   
  



	2. Thorn

**Bed of Nails**

**A Digimon Fanfiction**

**by Kit Spooner**   
  
  
  


Disclaimer: Oh, just sod off! (And apologies to U2)   
  


Warnings: Might as well try to be a bit more succinct about the warnings this time. Anyway. This fic features several random pairings (Kouyako, Kensuke, Yamasorachi, Jyoumi, and hints of all sorts of other crap) and frank, explicit discussions of sex, peppered with relatively inappropriate butchering of the English language. Oh, and a healthy dose of four-letter words. Funfun.   
  


Why am I doing this, you ask? Well, I think we're all in agreement that the end of Digimon 02 was a piece of guttertripe and wasn't worthy of its air-time. It also sucked big, fat monkey ass. And I _like_ my pairings. I think they even make sense. Kinda.   
  


Moving right along . . .   
  
  
  


When We Last Saw Our Heroine, she had foolishly mentioned to Daisuke her spur-of-the-moment decision to nab Izumi. Eventually we will see why this was not a Good Idea. But in the meanwhile, the time has come to watch Miyako put her Grand Plan into action. It is a Fail-Proof Plan, and therefore it will be truly spectacular when it fails . . .   
  
  
  


_With or without you   
With or without you _   
  


_Through the storm we reach the shore   
You give it all but I want more   
And I'm waiting for you _   
  
  
  


Part One: Thorn   
  
  
  


The gossip network that stretched elegantly among Odaiba's Chosen was a beautiful, complex creation. It was engineered almost entirely by Miyako with a little advice from Mimi, but that's beside the point. 

What's important to understand is how the network functioned. Miyako had originally opened up the channels of communication so that her adored sempai, Mimi, could keep up to date on the happenings in Odaiba while in America. In recent years, Mimi had returned to Japan, but the gossips were still in full swing. 

Most of the information processed through Miyako's web was gathered by Mimi or Miyako, herself, but most of the other Chosen contributed tidbits now and then. Ken was one of the surprisingly adept peripheral contributors. His rumors and predictions were almost always completely correct. Daisuke contributed more frequently, but tended to overestimate the importance of sports news. 

At the moment, the most titillating bit of information was the news that Miyako was going to make yet another attempt to nab Izumi Koushirou. It was reported by no fewer than four sources (Daisuke, Mimi, Sora and Taichi) and was eventually confirmed by the Gossip Queen herself. Her plan, such as it was, garnered much critical acclaim among the gossip-inclined Chosen. 

Miyako proclaimed her plan, "fucking brilliant," and most of those keeping up with the news had to agree. (Hikari was the only one to note that Koushirou had, in the past, seen through Miyako's clever ploys, but as usual, the voice of reason was drowned out by the excitement of new romance.) 

So perhaps it was a good thing that not only was Koushirou one of the two Chosen to have no contact whatsoever with Miyako's gossip-net, but the other ignorant Chosen was Jyou. Jyou was a risk factor since he was pretty much the only one who might feel loyal enough to Koushirou to spill the beans about Miyako's plot. Fortune smiled upon Miyako on that day. 

And what a decidedly non-glorious day it was! The sky was steel gray and clouds roiled ominously overhead. The rain was coming down in torrents by the time Miyako got off the bus in front of the University. She ran as fast as she could into the nearest academic building but she was still soaked to the bone as she pushed through the glass doors. __

_I can make the wet-look work for me,_ she told herself as she wrung her hair out, leaving a damp trail behind her as she trudged down the hallway toward her class. _As long as Koushirou doesn't have some strange aversion to girls looking like drowned kittens._

This was a very important stage in her Plan to Catch Izumi. If she failed to make an appropriately fabulous first impression than she might have to start all over. And she _didn't_ want to do that. Miyako had been waiting to enact this plan for weeks now. Merely tracking down Koushirou had been the easiest part. Then came the inevitable planning and string-pulling that followed. High school graduation had come and gone, but Miyako was focused on her Plan. And now, as the summer term at the University was gearing up, she was ready to leap into action. 

As expected (and accounted for), the class was already assembled when Miyako meekly poked her head into the room. She was, unsurprisingly, the only female in the room, and probably the only one under 20 years of age. As one, all the heads in the room turned to stare at her as she made her way into the room, still dripping in an artfully pathetic manner. 

"I'm sorry I'm late," she breathed, eyes dewy with regret as she gazed at the professor. 

For a long, tense moment, silence reigned. 

The professor, a short, prematurely-balding man in a rumpled oxford shirt and a pair of too-short trousers, cleared his throat. "That's . . . fine, child," he said nervously. "You must be Inoue Miyako, correct?" 

Miyako nodded. 

"Fine," the professor said. "Fine, just take a seat, please. We were just getting started. I'm Dr. Tsukimura and this is, as everyone should be well aware, the summer session of Computer Science 320, Distributed Algorithms . . ." 

Miyako, still deep into her role as the precocious schoolgirl, demurely took a seat near the front of the class, where she would be easily observable by everyone else. And oh, how she was observed! Female Computer Science students were still rare, despite attempts by the department to lure in a more gender-balanced student body. Even rarer was the female CompSci major who was as undeniably attractive as Miyako, particularly when she wanted to be. 

For the entire class period, Miyako was in fine form, crossing and uncrossing her legs when the attention of the class wavered from its mindless inspection of her legs and backside. It certainly helped that she was dressed as the demure schoolgirl in a short pleated skirt, white button-down shirt (with the top three buttons undone, of course), thigh-high stockings and a pair of almost-fashionable Mary Janes. In one fell swoop, Miyako became the darling of the Computer Science department, months before she officially became a Freshman. 

Even Professor Tsukimura thought she was adorable, and not merely because of her appearance. Miyako had the audacity to not only raise her hand in response to questions, but to actually respond _correctly_. It was any untenured professor's dream. Unfortunately for Tsukimura, however, Miyako was actually paying very little attention to the lesson. This was because Miyako was already a skilled programmer in her own right. She'd even audited that very Distributed Algorithms class the previous summer. So hanging on every word that dropped from the professor's lips would have been pointless and boring. 

It must be noted, at this point, that Miyako is _not_ a genius, no matter how stridently she may claim otherwise. Oh, she's certainly brilliant, with a mind and wit to match her vivacious personality. But she's erratic, her interest flitting from subject to subject like some mad butterfly. She lacks the will to truly apply herself to any particular field of study. And she's certainly not in Ichijouji Ken's league. She's never pretended to be. 

Well, she's never _seriously_ pretended, in any case. 

And convincing Daisuke that she was up for the Nobel Prize in physics wasn't much of a challenge, so it doesn't really count. 

In any event, by the time Dr. Tsukimura was wrapping up his lecture and assigning reading for the next class, nearly everyone in the class was certain that they were in the presence of genius. It's important to remember that "nearly," though. It will become important soon. 

The professor finished class, packed up his notes and slides, and slipped unobtrusively out of the room. Most of the students lingered, ostensibly chatting amongst themselves about the lesson. In truth, they were still eyeing Miyako's lithe, shapely form. A couple of the boys even screwed up the courage to introduce themselves. Miyako was polite and charming to them all. 

A blonde, British exchange student was later heard to remark, "That Girl is hot. And bloody smart. Brilliant, in fact. But more importantly, she's fucking hot." 

It took Miyako nearly twenty minutes to rid herself of her miscellaneous admirers. She had originally supposed that it would be fun to be the center of attention for an entire room of male college students, but the novelty wore off quickly. 

_Perhaps this sort of thing would be more fun with a gaggle of liberal arts students, _she mused as she subtly begged the last of her admirers to get lost. 

Finally Miyako was able to turn her attention to the final person in the room. The only one who had no illusions whatsoever about her genius, or lack thereof. 

"Izzy!" The use of the his pet-name was deliberate, of course. "What are you _doing _here? And why are you lurking back in the shadows like that?" Miyako picked her way around haphazardly arranged desks toward the red-headed young man still leaning casually against the storage closet doorframe. She knew the answers to her own questions, of course, but it would seem a little strange if she didn't ask them. 

_Why the hell else would I be taking this moronic class if I didn't have an ulterior motive,_ she reminded herself wickedly. It certainly hadn't been difficult to find out which course Izzy would be assisting with . . . 

Koushirou raised an eyebrow but clearly decided not to comment on the name. Perhaps he supposed it was a flighty creature like Miyako's prerogative to suddenly decide to resume a name-calling habit that had died rather suddenly and painfully the last time she'd tried to ask him out. "Hello, Miyako," he finally replied with the sort of bland smile that he knew drove her up the wall. "I didn't know you were taking this class over the summer. I thought you would have had your fill of this crap last summer . . ." 

Miyako had the grace to look a little abashed. "I only audited last summer, Izzy. Then I realized that I really should have taken it for credit, so here I am." She hopped up to sit, cross-legged on the desk nearest to Koushirou. "But you never answered my question. What on earth are you doing here?" 

"I'm here as Tsukimura's assistant," Koushirou explained with a sigh. "I don't know why he wanted me here today. There's nothing for me to do other than stand in the back and look helpful . . ." 

"Ooh!" Miyako smiled admiringly. "That's awfully nice of you to help out like that." 

"Niceness has nothing to do with it, Miyako," Koushirou noted. "I'm doing this for the money." He made a face. "Such as it is," he added with a slight scowl. 

Miyako made a mental note never to get suckered into T.A.-ing a class if the pay was as lousy as Koushirou was suggesting. 

"Ah, I see," Miyako said, fiddling absently with the hem of her skirt. She briefly considered 'accidentally' flipping the hem high enough to give Koushirou a flash of symbolically white, cotton panties, but then thought better of it. He'd seen through that ploy before. "Well, in any event, it's nice to see you again." And it truly was. Even if Miyako hadn't been aiming to get into Koushirou's spotless gray Dockers, it would have been nice to see him. Despite their somewhat rocky past, she still considered him one of her favorites among the older Chosen. 

Koushirou gave Miyako a long, measuring stare, as if to gauge her sincerity. Miyako knew he was taking in her artfully rumpled appearance, as well as the near-obscene amounts of leg and bosom she was showing, but he wasn't one to get distracted by a little extra pale, creamy skin. "It's nice to see you too," he said finally with another small smile. 

Miyako glanced at her watch and leapt down from the desk. "Shit, I'm late for my date with Dai." She peered up at Koushirou through her lashes. "I don't suppose you'd walk me out to the bus stop?" It took all of Miyako's self-control to keep from batting her eyelashes at him. She already _knew_ that the Eyelash Gambit didn't work well on Koushirou. 

"Sure," Koushirou replied with a shrug. He picked his bookbag up from the floor by his feet and slung it over his shoulder. "I'm not due back anywhere for a little while." 

Inwardly, Miyako exulted. Koushirou hadn't changed significantly since she'd last seen him, nearly a year ago. He was still ridiculously sexy, for a nerd, particularly now that his hair had grown out a bit. She wasn't sure whether it was a deliberate change for him or whether he just hadn't gotten a haircut in a while. Whatever the reason, it gave him a delectably disheveled appearance that drew Miyako like nothing else. 

She was subtle, however, in her sidelong glances as they walked together out toward the curbside bus stop. Miyako wondered, not for the first time, whether Koushirou had any idea how fascinating he was, with that silly hair and those dark, dark eyes of his. And he still had that wonderfully mobile mouth that somehow managed to be erotic, even when babbling about his summer internship as one of the local technology firms. At least when he was talking it gave her the excuse to watch his mouth. It was unfortunate, however, that by watching Koushirou's lips, Miyako was slowly and inexorably turned on, much to her horror. 

_I thought _I_ was supposed to be the one seducing _him_ . . ._

When Koushirou finally wound down his ramblings about the horrors of the modern university experience, Miyako sighed. "I wish I had time for some sort of internship or real job or something this summer." She absently wound a lock of hair around her finger. "Mom and Dad still need me to work at the Ai Mart almost every day." 

"Well, at least you know you won't get fired," Koushirou suggested. 

"I hope," Miyako muttered then sat down on the bench to await the bus. 

_This is a good thing_, she told herself, carefully not eyeing Koushirou. _I only asked him to walk me _to_ the bus stop. He's waiting here with me on his own. It's an omen! A sign from the gods that I'm going to nab the elusive Izumi! I might as well start planning where and when to lay him. _Her exultation, perhaps a little premature, was well-hidden and didn't show in her facial expression. 

"You don't have to wait here with me if you don't want to," Miyako noted hesitantly after a long silence. 

"It's alright," Koushirou said, waving off Miyako's vague, polite protestations. "Now that the rain's stopped it's nice out. The air always smells good after a rainstorm." 

"Ah," Miyako said before falling silent once again. 

Miyako was one of the most skilled conversationalists of the Odaiba Chosen, so her sudden awkward reticence must be viewed as suspicious, at the very least. 

"Koushirou," Miyako began again, sounding much younger than her nearly eighteen years. "I just wanted to apologize for . . . last time." 

Koushirou paled, then flushed, but didn't look at her. 

"I don't know whether I ever apologized for treating you like some sort of . . . consolation prize. You never deserved that and I just wanted to make sure that you were aware of that . . ." Her voice was very quiet. Miyako actually surprised herself by managing to feel a little guilty about the last incident with Koushirou. It went completely against her character to feel any shame or remorse, but Koushirou tended to bring out some of the odder aspects of her personality. 

"I know," Koushirou finally replied, his voice also quiet. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, but he still wouldn't look at Miyako. "I always knew, Miyako. You don't need to keep apologizing." 

"Yes I do!" Miyako exclaimed suddenly, jumping to her feet. "So stop trying to act so damn noble, Izzy!" 

Now he looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, as usual. Miyako had no idea where she stood with him, but she might as well continue bashing her way through his defenses. 

"I had absolutely _no_ idea what your feelings were and I didn't give a flying fuck either way!" Miyako's eyes flashed with anger. "So you damn well better let me apologize again or I'm going to slap you silly!" 

Koushirou looked a little startled by Miyako's final ultimatum, but he kept silent. 

"You and I _both_ know that you deserved much more than being my rebound date, after failing with Jyou so fucking miserably." Miyako's expression flashed rapidly from fury to agony and then to a sort of general misery. "But you hurt me too, Izzy. Don't _ever_ think that I'm as heartless as Daisuke likes to pretend." 

Miyako watched Izzy's eyes widen and inwardly cheered. _I think I'm getting to him, the smug little prick._ As she progressed farther into her rant, Miyako began to remember how much Izzy _had_ hurt her, back when he'd rejected her so calmly, with such icy panache. Her smooth control was beginning to erode as she started to slide ever-so-slightly off-course, her Plan slipping awry. 

"So now I want you to just accept the fact that I fucked up royally, and I want you to get over it. It's been two years, Izzy. Just forgive me, already. Stop avoiding me." Miyako's eyes filled with tears. "Stop treating me like something you'd dissect in your zoology lab. I'm tired of it!" She pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "I've missed you, Izzy," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, the wind snatching her words and tossing them far out of reach. 

Miyako stared at her shoes and nibbled on the inside of her cheek. She really had no idea how Koushirou would respond to _this_ latest tirade. He used to be so good at figuring out exactly what she was bitching about but he was certainly out of practice now. 

Koushirou's response was _not_ what Miyako was expecting. 

In a single, smooth movement, Miyako was suddenly pulled forward, crashing against Koushirou's chest. Her arms went out to regain her balance, but she was foiled again when Koushirou wrapped his arms around her first. Miyako was so surprised that she simply froze, not even able to enjoy the warmth of Koushirou's body against hers. This was what she'd been angling for since that day that she'd announced to Daisuke that she was going after Koushirou. And she was too startled to take advantage of the moment. 

Koushirou lay his cheek against Miyako's hair and awkwardly stroked her back. "I . . . I'm sorry too, Miyako," Koushirou said, his voice deeper than Miyako remembered, rumbling through his chest and making her stomach vibrate in synch. "I should have known that you were hurting too but I was just so . . ." His arms tightened almost painfully around her. "I forgave you long ago, you know." 

Miyako was still frozen, her body stiff and unresponsive in Koushirou's arms. The situation was spiraling out of her control and she was damned if she had any idea of how to fix things. "Izzy . . ." she murmured, hoping to regain some semblance of her old self. 

"Don't," he said, cutting her off quickly, his breath stirring her hair, still damp from her dousing earlier. "Don't apologize anymore, Yolei," he told her. "Just shut up, for once." Despite his curt words, his tone was kind and Miyako found herself at a loss. 

_He called me Yolei_, she thought, warmth spreading through her belly, pooling about her thighs. _It's been . . . years since he called me that. And he's so . . ._ Her eyes drifted closed and a smile quirked at her mouth. _He called me Yolei_. It was a pet-name that she'd missed more than she'd known. 

Finally, she pulled together the strength of will to pull back from Koushirou, just enough to be able to look him in the eye. There was a strange expression on his face, one Miyako couldn't quite place. If she didn't know better -- and she _definitely_ did -- she would have said he was torn between sorrow and . . . desire. 

"Oh, Yolei," he murmured, giving her hair an affectionate ruffle. "I missed you too, you know." He bent his head closer to hers, as though making sure nothing would distract her from what he was saying. 

One of the nicest things about Koushirou was that he was short, perhaps only an inch or two taller than Miyako herself. It made him a perfect height for these sort of soul-searching gazes that he was throwing her way. It also made him the perfect height for kissing. 

This was something that Miyako had completely forgotten. Until now. She absently licked her lips. 

The hand that Koushirou was using to tangle Miyako's hair drifted down to gently cradle the back of her head. He hesitated for a brief moment, then dipped his mouth toward hers. 

Miyako had fistfuls of Koushirou's green polo shirt grasped tightly in her hands. When she felt his fingers at the back of her skull, she found herself tugging helplessly at that shirt. But when Koushirou's mouth drew near hers, she pushed away. 

"Yolei?" Koushirou was clearly baffled, his eyes wide with surprise and hurt. 

"Izzy . . ." Miyako found herself in the unenviable position of having to explain her completely irrational behavior to not only Koushirou, but to herself. "We can't . . ." 

Izzy just stared at her, looking like a child who's been refused candy one too many times. 

The bus rumbled to a stop behind Miyako and she grabbed onto the excuse like a lifeline. "I'm sorry," she blurted. "I'm so, so sorry, Izzy." She darted from Koushirou's arms toward the anonymous safety of the bus. "I'll . . . see you in class." 

And then she was gone. The bus roared to life once more, spewed a little foul-smelling exhaust, and trundled down the street. 

Had Miyako not freaked out so fantastically, had she remained behind, she might have heard Koushirou note, with a pensive frown, "Well, that could have gone better."   
  
  
  


_______________   
  
  
  
  
  


Next Time: We _finally_ find out what the hell happened the Last Time our two mismatched lovers got together to make them get along like cats in a sack in the current timeline. And then we are faced with more important questions: Will Miyako ever get to sleep with Koushirou, or will she end up stuck in an endless repetition of her recreational time with Daisuke for all of eternity? Why on earth did Miyako run away the moment she got Koushirou to show a hint of affection? Will Koushirou, Boy Genius, see through Miyako's thinly-veiled attempts to get into his trousers? And why the hell would he object to letting Miyako into his trousers anyway?! And most importantly: Will Miyako be completely and utterly embarrassed before the chapter's out? (Most likely)   
  



	3. Sleight of Hand

**Bed of Nails**   
**A Digimon Fanfiction**   
**by Kit Spooner**   
  
  
  


Disclaimer: Oh, just sod off! (With apologies to U2 and Fiona Apple)   
  


Warnings: Might as well try to be a bit more succinct about the warnings this time. Anyway. This fic features several random pairings (Kouyako, Kensuke, Yamasorachi, Jyoumi, and hints of all sorts of other crap) and frank, explicit discussions of sex, peppered with relatively inappropriate butchering of the English language. Oh, and a healthy dose of four-letter words. Funfun.   
  


Why am I doing this, you ask? Well, I think we're all in agreement that the end of Digimon 02 was a piece of guttertripe and wasn't worthy of its air-time. It also sucked big, fat monkey ass. And I _like_ my pairings. I think they even make sense. Kinda.   
  


Moving right along . . .   
  
  
  


Last Time: Miyako was well on her way to Getting Koushirou through a carefully orchestrated 'chance' meeting at the University, but then flipped out for some unexplained reason. It's looking like their past relationship (or lack thereof) is in the process of coming back to bite Miyako in the ass. Repeatedly.   
  
  
  


_Once my lover, now my friend _   
_What a cruel thing to pretend _   
_What a cunning way to condescend _   
_Once my lover, and now my friend _   
_Oh, you creep up like the clouds _   
_And you set my soul at ease _   
_Then you let your love abound _   
_And you bring me to my knees _   
_Oh, its evil, babe, the way you let your _   
_grace enrapture me _   
_When will you know, I'd be insane_   
_to ever let that dirty game recapture me _   
  
  
  
  
  


**Part Two: Sleight of Hand**   
  
  
  


Meanwhile, Miyako was busy banging her head against the bulletproof glass of the bus window. 

"I . . . am . . . a . . . fucking . . . moron," she ground out between each dull thud. 

The rest of the passengers on the bus, clearly used to this sort of strange behavior from local youths, cheerfully ignored her personal abuse. 

_I really should have known better_, Miyako told herself angrily. _I mean, he's done crazy shit like this before, the stupid fuck!_ She ground her teeth. 

This whole Grand Plan was turning into a disaster. And of course, Daisuke would want to hear how things were going, and there was no _way_ she could hide a failure of this magnitude from him. 

But it was more than just complete and utter mortification in the face of Daisuke's laughter. What pissed Miyako off the most was that she'd underestimated Koushirou's abilities to forgive . . . and greatly underestimated her own attraction to the boy. It was frustrating the way he'd simply smiled and apologized nicely and she'd been ready to forgive him all his mistakes and foibles. 

And he made her feel guilty; guilty for events that hadn't been completely under her control. Sure, Koushirou _had_ been her second choice at the time, after Jyou, but the argument that ensued once the truth came out went far beyond simple hurt.   
  
  
  


_"Why the sudden change of heart, Yolei?" Koushirou had asked on a balmy, early-summer evening. Still surfing on the crest of smug self-approval that followed his high school graduation, he'd finally caved under Miyako's insistent pressure and asked her out on a date. They hadn't yet set up the specifics for their 'date,' but that would come later. For now, they simply enjoyed each other's company as they strolled down the toward the Ai Mart._

_"You mean, why'd I hang around you so much even while I was still lusting desperately after Kido Jyou?" Miyako's smile was decidedly wicked and it made her look like a naughty child. She was, of course, well aware of the effect these smiles had on Koushirou. She wasn't stupid._

_"Yeah. That."_ _Koushirou nodded. "I thought you were desperately in love with Jyou . . ."_

_Miyako laughed loudly, startling a few sparrows that were foraging along the sidewalk they were ambling down. "Love? Hell, no. I've never been in love in my entire life, Izzy, and I certainly wouldn't pick Jyou for a trial run. No, I just kinda liked him. But that's not the point." She grinned and linked her arm with Koushirou's. "The point is that it wasn't so much a change of heart as it was a realization that _you_ were still waiting for me to stop being such a silly little twit. I finally noticed you, Izzy." Her eyes were almost solemn as she gazed up at him. "Is that so hard for you to believe?"_

_Koushirou swallowed nervously. Miyako knew he'd never had a great deal of contact with members of the opposite sex and her proximity was probably freaking him out quite a bit. She bit down on another smile. He was just too adorable for his own good. She absently wondered how he'd be in bed . . ._

__Enough time for that sort of thing later_, she reminded herself sternly._

_At least Koushirou was noticing _her_. Jyou had done a truly pathetic job of remembering that she was female. Koushirou's reactions to her were much more satisfying. He blushed when she smiled at him, trembled each time she brushed up against him when they walked side by side. And even now he seemed adorably flustered by having Miyako attached to his arm, her left breast pressing against him intimately. _

_Miyako had always known that Koushirou was sort of attracted to her, in a general kind of way. Throughout high school he shot her _glances_, a sort of intense stare that Miyako eventually interpreted as the computer geek version of a wolf whistle, or maybe a leer. And of course Miyako encouraged this sort of thing. Miyako's ego was almost as overwhelming as Daisuke's was and she liked confirmation of her status as a desirable, irresistible vixen. Even if it had to come from Izumi Koushirou._

_Koushirou's obvious affection for her made him the obvious replacement for the lost Jyou. Poor Izzy wasn't nearly as handsome as Jyou, but he had two things going for him. First of all, Koushirou was marginally better at social interactions than Jyou was. More importantly, however, was the fact that Koushirou wouldn't turn Miyako down flat, as Jyou had._

_The Kido Rejection had, of course, precipitated a royal scene. Miyako had never been so furious with a boy before. Or at least it felt that way at the time. Jyou's reasoning for refusing to date Miyako was that he was waiting for Mimi. It was common knowledge among the Odaiba Chosen that Jyou had been desperately in love with Mimi almost from the moment he clapped eyes on her. And Mimi, despite popular rumors that she fancied Yamato, had eventually found herself returning Jyou's feelings._

_Then Mimi had moved to America. Poor Jyou still talked with her via email on a regular basis, but it wasn't the same. So he got over his moping, finished high school, and waited for Mimi to return._

_Mimi, social butterfly of the Chosen, continued to date while in America. She went through near a dozen boys in her first year there, none of them terribly serious_ _relationships. She missed Jyou terribly, but couldn't help herself. Miyako heard about all of this straight from Mimi herself. Miyako's childhood adoration of the older Chosen of Purity hadn't faded over the years and she was fanatical about their email correspondence. And Mimi loved having someone to share juicy tidbits of gossip with. It was a perfect relationship._

_Finally, when Miyako told Mimi about her goal to date (to some extent) all of the Odaiba Chosen, Mimi moved quickly from laughter to excitement. It was such a fabulously fun idea that Mimi was surprised that she hadn't attempted it first herself. So after the current list of Dated Chosen was discussed and dissected (particularly Miyako's bizarre relationship with Daisuke), Mimi offered up Jyou as the next for Miyako to attack. Mimi's approval was a tacit bestowal of permission to date her sometimes boyfriend._

_Too bad Jyou was neither interested physically in Miyako nor attracted by her wild flirting. All in all, it was an unmitigated disaster which left Miyako in a bit of a funk for a week or so. Then Miyako decided that what she needed to boost her spirits was a good fling. And Koushirou was there, so she grabbed her chance._

_Wooing Koushirou was an entirely novel experience for Miyako. It didn't involve much of the spectacular flirting that usually went along with the process. All Miyako really had to do to draw Koushirou was to spend good, honest _time_ with the boy. They chatted about their Digimon partners and discussed some of Koushirou's wilder theories about the Digital World. It was very low-stress, for Miyako, which was exactly what she needed at the time._

__Yep, I think he's good for me,_ Miyako mused silently, giving Koushirou a quick sidelong glance. _Maybe I ought to keep him for a while. Would it be so bad to have a steady relationship with someone like Izzy? Someone I have so much in common with, someone who I can get along with without tricky mental acrobatics? _Miyako was still a little shell-shocked from her last relationship with a Chosen which had ended six months ago. Sora had regretfully told Miyako that she was going to resume dating Yamato. And thus ended Miyako's first romantic relationship with a girl._

_Koushirou was still blushing a little after Miyako's declaration of her interest in him. There was also an odd expression on his face, one that Miyako couldn't begin to recognize._

_"So does that answer your question, Izzy?" she asked curiously. She was ready to fast-forward through all the technical relationshippy details and get on with the snogging._

_For a moment, Koushirou just continued to stare steadily at her. Then his eyes narrowed slightly and his gaze hardened. "You _did_ want Jyou," he corrected her bluntly, his blush blurring into anger. "I'm the rebound."_

_"That's not true!" Miyako lied defensively, almost shouting. "I wanted you. I always did!"_

_"Don't lie to me!" Koushirou roared furiously._

_Miyako was speechless. How on earth had Koushirou found out about the final break with Jyou? Could Mimi have . . ._

_"Jyou told me," Koushirou answered her unspoken question. "I'd mentioned in an email that I thought you'd been eyeing me for a while now. And he warned me about you. And what you wanted."_

_Miyako made a soft, strangled sound, deep in her throat._

_"I'm _not_ willing to be just another trophy for you, Miyako," Koushirou said, his voice rising._ _Miyako had never seen him angry, but it looked like she was about to witness his fury first-hand._

_"It's not like that . . ." Miyako began, frantically trying to organize her defense in a coherent manner. But all she could think of was how Koushirou had been able to hide his hurt and his anger from her _all day long.   
  
  
  


And so the fight began, with a sort of fury that was entirely unexpected and deeply painful to both of them. Both Miyako and Koushirou were people who felt things very deeply, though Miyako was more used to expressing those feelings. The result was a spectacular display of wounded pride, thwarted affection, and a hefty dose of pure, dumb rage. 

_We actually got into a bit of a fist-fight_, Miyako mused, still slumped in the back of the bus. She'd slapped him first, then he'd retaliated with a hefty shove that sent her sprawling in the grass. Then she'd tried to kick him in the knee and when he dodged and gave her a look of blistering scorn, she struck out with her fist and blackened his eye. 

In retrospect, the battle certainly seemed a little ridiculous. 

And it hurt. Oh, how it hurt! It wasn't merely the rejection. Miyako had been rejected before, Jyou being merely one of the more recent examples. In fact, she generally failed more frequently than she succeeded, since high school boys tended to turn timid under the full-force of Miyako's energetic, aggressive flirting. 

What really cut to the core was how easily, how simply Koushirou had tricked her into thinking he was truly interested in her. It hadn't been until the final moments of the brawl that Miyako realized how efficiently Koushirou had pulled the rug, the floor, and the whole damn world out from under her feet.   
  
  
  


_"I can't believe you went through with this solely for the purpose of humiliating me." The fight had gone out of Miyako's body by now and she was nearly in tears, though still glaring at Koushirou. And oh, how tired she was! Her hand smarted from the punch she'd landed and her hip ached from her fall. "I should have known that you weren't just trying to get into my panties. Why would the great and austere Izumi Koushirou stoop to chasing the village bicycle? Not everyone wants to ride, I guess."_

_Koushirou grew even angrier at her words, his face so red it clashed sickeningly with his hair. "Rest assured, Miyako-san," he began, his tone cold and his words clipped. The formality of his speech made Miyako's tears fall faster. "I have absolutely no interest in your panties or the wonders contained within. And bicycles are completely out of the question." And with that final blow, he turned and stalked off._

_Miyako stared in shock at his retreating back for a moment, then darted after him and grabbed his arm. "You expect me to believe that you had no interest at _all_ in fucking me?"_

_Koushirou spun around and looked haughtily down at Miyako, his expression cold. "Yes, I do expect you to believe that, Miyako-san," he said, still looking down his nose at her, which was an impressive feat considering he was not much taller than she was. "It's the truth. I was never interested in joining the ranks of your ex-lovers, no matter how enjoyable the experience might have been." His lips thinned disapprovingly. "Now let go of my arm, please."_

_Miyako didn't let go. "I _saw_ the way you were looking at me!" she shouted fiercely. "You looked at me in exactly the same way all the other boys do. Don't think I'm stupid because I act silly all the time. I'm not. And you _watched_ me. I _know_ you did. Don't you dare try to deny it, Izumi Koushirou, because . . ."_

_"I wouldn't dream of denying it," Koushirou replied, smoothly cutting her off. "After all, would you have gone out with someone who didn't leer appropriately at you?" His expression softened, but only slightly. "But you were my friend. I didn't believe what Jyou told me, so I wanted to prove him wrong. And I failed spectacularly." He pulled his arm out of her grip. "Goodbye, Miyako."_   
  
  
  


Miyako had followed up the Koushirou Disaster with several energetic afternoons with Daisuke. This did little to appease her wounded pride, but it did take the edge off her horniness. And from there she'd moved on. 

_Or at least, I damn well tried,_ Miyako corrected. At the moment, it looked like Koushirou's return into her life would be about as gentle as a knife-fight. 

Eventually, the bus ground to a halt, brakes squealing in protest, and Miyako got off. The apartment building that had been Miyako's home for more than ten years loomed overhead. She sighed wearily and trudged inside to the elevator. 

_I think it's time to go talk to Takeru,_ Miyako decided. _He's a guy. Maybe he'll understand what the hell kind of bug crawled up Izzy's ass. And why the hell he suddenly came onto me after the long period of estrangement . . .'_

__Takeru and his mother had moved into the building at approximately the same time that the Inoues had, and the two families still remained close, particularly Takeru and Miyako. So when Miyako came storming in through their front door without bothering to knock, Mrs. Takaishi remained calm and simply smiled at the irritable girl. 

"Good afternoon, Miyako, dear," the older woman said kindly. "Takeru's in his room." 

"Thanks," Miyako murmured as politely as she could. Then she stomped off to find the blonde boy. 

As promised, Takeru was in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of a pile of rumpled wrapping paper, a snarl of tangled ribbon, and several sheets of tissue paper. The first thing that occurred to Miyako when she saw him was that he'd reverted to childhood and creating some sort of quasi-artistic sculpture. Then she realized that in the center of the paper that he was wrestling with was a small box. 

"Holy shit, Teek!" Miyako burst out laughing. "Are you trying to wrap a _present_ for someone?" She plopped down on the floor next to him and pulled an errant curl of ribbon out of his hair. 

Takeru peered grumpily over at Miyako and snatched the scrap of ribbon back. This left his package unencumbered and it promptly exploded, paper and tissue scattering. "Fuck," Takeru muttered. 

"Would you like some help?" Miyako offered. While it was amusing watching Takeru battle gift wrap, she figured she'd be able to steer the conversation to Koushirou faster if the wrapping got done. 

Takeru gave Miyako a ridiculously pathetic look, complete with pouting mouth and sad blue eyes. "Please!" he gushed. 

Miyako giggled and kissed the boy on the cheek. "Sure thing, handsome." She scooted closer and inspected the pile of paper. "So who's the lucky recipient of this . . . whatever it is . . ." She began to carefully clear excess paper, searching for the present. 

"It's a belated graduation present for Hikari," Takeru said mournfully. "I didn't know we were going to be exchanging grad presents until she suddenly presented me with one after the ceremony." 

"And it took you _three weeks_ to produce a present for her?" Miyako snorted. 

"I had to find just the _right_ present and then it took a couple weeks to get it made." Takeru absently ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "She's going to fucking kill me if the present isn't good enough." 

"I . . . don't think that'll be a problem," Miyako murmured as she dug her way down through the paper and found the exquisite presents. First there was a tiny, polished-wood chest with a hinging lid and a tiny brass clasp. The chest was covered in carvings that prominently featured the Crests of Light and Hope, entwined and surrounded by swirling, abstract designs. On top of the chest lay a silver bangle with a similarly abstract design etched on it. The design was irregular, however, asymmetrical and it looked sort of like . . . 

"What does this say?" Miyako suddenly asked, peering closely at the bracelet. "I don't even recognize the characters or the language." 

"The message is a secret," Takeru said smugly. Now that he had Miyako's approval he felt much more sure of himself. "I just remembered that 'Kari had a passing interest in learning the ancient hieroglyphs of the Digital World, back when we were little kids. So I got Patamon to research it for me and I had this bracelet commissioned. Gatomon ought to be able to translate what it says for 'Kari. So you really think she'll like it?" 

"Of course she will," Miyako snapped. "She'll probably even like it so much that she'll forgive you for being three weeks late. And then there'll be the fabulous celebratory sex." 

"I can always Hope," he replied with a small smirk, his finger tracing the outline of the Crest of Hope on the wooden chest. 

"Smartass," Miyako accused fondly. "But anyway, before you give this to 'Kari we'll have to get it wrapped nicely. Your first mistake was to try and set the bracelet on top of the box and wrap it that way. Even if you did a good job it would be lumpy." She flipped open the little clasp and opened the lid of the chest. "Did it ever occur to you to just put the bracelet _in_ the box, genius?" 

Takeru looked suitably embarrassed. 

"I'll take that as a 'no.'" Miyako put the bangle in the box and pulled out a fresh sheet of gift-wrap. "Now just watch while I wrap this up. Then you _might_ be able to manage it on your very own next time." She cleared more rumpled paper from her work space. "Your second mistake, by the way, was trying to put tissue paper into this whole mess. What the _hell_ were you thinking? Tissue paper is for fucking _padding_ when you're wrapping something fragile . . ." 

Miyako was clever with her hands and deftly folded and taped until the package was tidily wrapped. Then she briskly decorated the present with ribbon and pulled out a little gift tag for Takeru to fill out. Throughout the process, she kept up a steady stream of instructions, commentary, and pointers for future projects. Miyako also mentioned that she was the Master Wrapper in her household, and therefore she was one of the best that Takeru would ever meet. 

Miyako was a girl who knew where her talents lay. One of them was in wrapping and decorating gifts in creative and elegant ways. Other talents were less marketable . . . . which drew her thoughts back to the reason she'd come to see Takeru. 

"Well, now that the wrapping emergency is taken care of," Miyako began, tossing the finished present to a rather awe-struck Takeru. "There are more important things to discuss." 

"Like . . . ?" Takeru prompted curiously. 

"Izzy," Miyako answered in a tone of voice that made her frustration clear. 

"Oh, geez." Takeru shook his head. "You've resumed your hunt for the elusive Izumi?" He snickered. "Poor Koushirou!" 

"It's not funny, you jackass!" Miyako snapped irritably. "This is serious!" 

Takeru leaned over and enfolded his upset friend in a warm hug. "Sorry, Miya. I didn't know you were taking this so seriously." 

"I know, I know," Miyako sighed and snuggled closer to Takeru. "It's just got me on edge. I spent weeks setting up a way to 'accidentally' run into him and now that I have . . ." She trailed off, turning her head to inhale the comforting scent of Freshly Washed Takeru. 

"What, did he reject you again like the cold-hearted, soulless bastard that he is?" Takeru's tone was gentle and sympathetic. 

"What did you call him?!" Miyako was surprised. She didn't know that Takeru had any sort of old grudge against Koushirou. 

"The same thing you called him two years ago when you told me about your little spat," Takeru replied smoothly. "I'm assuming he acted in approximately the same way?" 

"No! And that's the problem!" Miyako closed her eyes and concentrated on Takeru's heartbeat, hoping to calm her own. 

"Huh?" Takeru was baffled. Miyako didn't have to look at his expression to realize that. "You mean he didn't bitch you out?" 

"The self-righteous little prick tried to kiss me, Teek!" Miyako was rather confused herself. She had no idea why Koushirou's sudden comradery and affection should frighten her so much. It just had to be some sort of trick to get back at her. It had to be _something_ . . . 

"Whoa," said Takeru, momentarily caught without something remotely useful or clever to say. 

"It just doesn't make sense!" Miyako held Takeru tighter. "I mean, he has to have an ulterior motive here, doesn't he? He's trying to get revenge for my hurting him two years ago, right?" 

Takeru pondered the issue for a moment. "Have you considered the possibility that he might be genuine?" He absently stroked her hair. "I mean, he's always had the hots for you . . ." 

Miyako pulled back from Takeru and stared at him. "He _has_?! Since when?" 

"Since as long as I can remember, I think," Takeru replied. 

"But . . . he never showed any of the signs of it . . ." Miyako spluttered. 

"Ah, but that's because our Koushirou has always been a strange sort of boy," Takeru explained carefully. "He doesn't bother with the usual social conventions of flirting and making calf-eyes at the girls he likes. He's used to the more logical workings of his laptop." 

Miyako gaped. 

"I can't believe you never picked up on it, Miya," Takeru chided with a small smile. "I mean, c'mon, you're the heir to Sora's Crest. Love's supposed to be _your_ department, dear, isn't it?" 

Miyako snickered. "Well, I'm also Mimi's heir, but I'm not exactly a shining paragon of Purity, am I?" Her tone was heavy with self-deprecating sarcasm. 

"It depends on whether you define Purity by social or spiritual conventions," Takeru mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. 

"That's not the point," Miyako broke in. "I still need to know what the hell I should do about Izzy!" 

"Well, if he makes you so damned uncomfortable, why not just avoid him?" It _was_ a logical suggestion. 

"I can't," Miyako wailed. "He's the T.A. for my summer computer class! I have to see him every day." 

"How about just going ahead with your plan and boffing him?" Takeru suggested mildly. "Isn't that what you were planning on doing in the first place?" 

"Yes, but . . ." Miyako frowned. "Sex is such a vulnerable sort of thing. It would leave me open to all sorts of attacks from him. And I don't mean physical, Teek. I mean, he could insult me, say that I'm an awful lay, or . . ." 

"But we both know that insults of those kind would be pointless, right?" Takeru grinned slyly. "I think we can both agree that you're gorgeous. And I can certainly vouch for your prowess in bed . . ." 

Miyako smiled a little and gave Takeru a quick kiss on the lips. It was true, though. Takeru had certainly enjoyed his little fling with Miyako a year or so ago. He'd actually approached _her_ with his proposition, instead of the usual Miyako-flirting. The story was that he and Hikari had just slept together for the first time and it had been an unmitigated disaster that left both young lovers unsatisfied and sore and thoroughly embarrassed. So Takeru had asked Miyako for some pointers. The discussion of sexual techniques had eventually led to demonstrations. There was nothing more than friendship between the two, but they'd decided all the same to not mention the little teaching session to Hikari, who had never commented on Takeru's sudden increased skills in lovemaking. 

"You might be right, but he could still hurt me," Miyako admitted. "The worst part is that I miss having him as a friend." 

"Then you probably should have thought twice about selecting him as your next male target," Takeru said pointedly with a slight frown. 

"I know," Miyako said mournfully. "You're right again. But now that I've started, I don't want to stop." She snuggled in next to Takeru once more. 

"Poor little Miya," he said gently, caressing her arm soothingly with his fingers. "Don't worry about the future. Just remember the rest of your friends will be here to help you pick up the pieces if you fall." 

"Thanks, Teek," Miyako murmured against Takeru's t-shirt. They cuddled in silence for a while before Miyako spoke up again. "Can I sleep here with you tonight?" she asked in a tiny, childlike voice as she ran her hands along his thigh in a subtly seductive manner. 

"Nice try, Miyako," Takeru said with a small chuckle as he pulled slightly away and kissed the tip of her nose. 

Miyako grinned wryly. "Well, it was worth a shot . . ."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Next Time: Miyako finally has to report in to Daisuke about her success with Koushirou. Will she be able to save face by sneaking around the issues? And to top this all off, she has to go back to class . . . and Koushirou, who is certainly baffled by Miyako's bizarre, inexplicable behavior. And now that Daisuke is chasing Ken, Koushirou is being scary, and Takeru is remaining faithful to Hikari, how on earth will Miyako get her regularly scheduled nookie?   
  



	4. . . . And You Give

**Bed of Nails**   
**A Digimon Fanfiction**   
**by Kit Spooner**   
  
  
  


Disclaimer: Oh, just sod off! (And apologies to U2 and Garbage and whoever wrote the Chess soundtrack)   
  


Warnings: Might as well try to be a bit more succinct about the warnings this time. Anyway. This fic features several random pairings (Kouyako, Kensuke, Yamasorachi, Jyoumi, and hints of all sorts of other crap) and frank, explicit discussions of sex, peppered with relatively inappropriate butchering of the English language. Oh, and a healthy dose of four-letter words. Funfun.   
  


Why am I doing this, you ask? Well, I think we're all in agreement that the end of Digimon 02 was a piece of guttertripe and wasn't worthy of its air-time. It also sucked big, fat monkey ass. And I _like_ my pairings. I think they even make sense. Kinda.   
  


Moving right along . . .   
  
  
  


Last Time: There was lots of internal monologue and poorly reenacted flashback sequences. And then Miyako went to gain advice and unconditional affection from Takeru, who was busy wrestling wrapping paper in hopes that Hikari wouldn't geld him for his failure to produce a prompt graduation present for her. In the end, Takeru politely declined Miyako's not-so-subtle request for sympathy-sex.   
  
  
  


_What are little boys made of?_   
_What are little boys made of?_   
_Frogs and snails and puppydog tails_   
_That's what little boys are made of._

_What are little girls made of?_   
_What are little girls made of?_   
_Sugar and spice and everything nice_   
_That's what little girls are made of._   
  
  
  


Part Three: And You Give . . .   
  
  
  


"You're shitting me!" 

Deep breath. "No, Dai. I'm not." 

"He tried to kiss you and you _bolted_?!" 

"Did I not just _say_ that? Are you deaf as well as moronic?" 

The giggling slowed. "Hey, no reason for you to rag on me just because you were acting like a scared virgin, Miyako." 

"Daisuke! Will you just shut the fuck up? You're not helping any!" 

"Fine. What else happened? Did you go back and drag him behind the bushes?" 

"No . . ." 

"In the classroom?" 

"Not exactly . . ." 

"Miyako, you sly thing! You screwed him out in the open?" 

"Dammit, Dai, I didn't sleep with him!" 

There was a long, stunned pause. 

"Uh . . . then what did you do after you finished banging your head against the bus, Miyako?" 

"I'm beginning to regret mentioning that part." 

"I can see why. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were out of your fucking mind." 

"That's not the point. Anyway, I went to go see Teek." 

"And did you have sex with him?" 

"No, dumbass. I helped him wrap a present for Hikari." 

"Is that some sort of sophisticated euphemism for sex?" 

"Of course it's not." There was a brief, thoughtful pause. "And do you even _know_ what 'euphemism' means?" 

"Shut up, Miyako!" 

"Anyway, how'd things go with Ken today?" 

"Success, baby!" The smile was audible in his voice. 

"So, ya boff him yet?" 

"Nah, I'm going to take it slow with him, I think. I got him to agree to go kick a ball around with me tomorrow afternoon, though." 

"Daisuke, you do that with him every day anyway." 

"But I've got something special planned for tomorrow. Something really fucking clever. Something that'll make him rethink our friendship." 

"What, are you going to show up naked?" 

"You think you're cute, don't you?" 

"I _am_ cute, Dai. We've had this conversation before." 

"Oh, yeah . . ."   
  
  
  


Miyako chose her outfit very carefully the next morning. The innocent schoolgirl look had worked almost _too_ well, so she decided to tone down that angle. But she wasn't entirely sure which direction to take with her clothes. In the end, she tromped off to the bus stop in comfortable jeans and a white t-shirt that had "ph34r my l33t n3kkid skillz" written across the chest in virulent green ink. It was one of her personal favorites. 

The city bus dumped her off outside the university and she hurried inside, hoping she wouldn't be _terribly_ late for class. As fate would have it, she wasn't the only one running a little late. 

"Koushirou?" 

The redhead paused in his dash toward the Computer Science wing. "Oh, Miyako. Did you oversleep too?" He was the very image of casual, one eyebrow raised slightly in inquiry. 

"Dawdled in the bathroom," Miyako replied smoothly. If Koushirou wanted to pretend that nothing unusual had happened the day before, then she was perfectly content to play along. 

They didn't bother to exchange any more pleasantries as they darted down the hallway and into class. Professor Tsukimura gave them an absent nod as they entered, Miyako taking her usual seat in the front row, Koushirou moving to lurk in the storage-closet doorway at the back of the room. 

Class was a drag, as Miyako expected. She already knew the material so she spent most of the class period nibbling adorably on her lower lip and throwing fascinating glances at the professor. He, like all the other students, seemed positively enchanted with his single female pupil. The one problem Miyako detected with her spot at the front of the room was that she couldn't watch Koushirou. And she really wanted to. She needed to know what he was thinking, how he felt about her abrupt departure the day before. 

Today's class involved one of the twice-weekly lab sessions that were Miyako's favorite parts of the course. Smiling fixedly at a lecturing professor for an hour or two was rough, but the reward of sitting in front of a functioning computer again made the boredom worth it. She managed to finish up the lab exercises with minimal effort and then proceeded to call an emergency session of the Chosen Girls' Club. 

Miyako had initially considered inviting only Mimi and Sora, but realized it would be pointless. Hikari would probably be busy making out with Takeru all afternoon so Miyako would be safe even if 'Kari was invited. Miyako sometimes got the impression that Hikari disapproved of her romantic entanglements. _It's like she thinks we should all be in monogamous, long-term relationships with boys as wonderful as Takeru,_ Miyako mused, tapping her fingernails gently against the curve of the mouse. _Too bad there aren't enough Takerus to go around, 'Kari . . ._

It was a simple thing to send out email messages to the three other female Chosen requesting their presence at their regular cafe hangout that afternoon. Hikari responded almost immediately in the expected manner: 

"Sorry, Miyako. Takeru's absolutely stubborn about keeping our date tonight. I think he's got something special planned. *winks* Wish me luck, hon. -- Kari" 

_I hardly think she needs my well-wishes to get lucky tonight,_ Miyako noted wryly. 

By the end of the lab period Miyako had received replies from Sora and Mimi. 

"You owe me a parfait from last time, Miyako. Strawberry, please. -- Love, Sora" 

Sora never wasted words via email. 

"I wouldn't ditch you for the world, darling! I'll definitely be there. *giggles* Poor Izzy! -- Lots of Love, Mims" 

And Mimi, as expected, didn't even need to be told about the reason for calling the meeting. In fact, for all Miyako knew, Mimi may have already heard Izzy's version of the sordid story from Jyou. 

Miyako beamed as she gathered up her papers and disks at the end of lab. Sora and Mimi would certainly be able to give her a little insight on Koushirou. They'd spent more time with him in the Digital World, and therefore had known him longer. By this evening, Miyako would have a new game-plan for the Izzy Issue. Everything was coming together in wonderful, tidy ways. Miyako was even whistling as she sauntered out of the computer lab. 

This time, she didn't even _notice_ Koushirou's desperate attempt to flag her down as she skipped gleefully out to the bus stop.   
  
  
  


The Princess Love-Puff Ice Cream Parlor was a popular spot for young girls in Odaiba and the female Chosen were no exception.Immediately upon entering that afternoon, Miyako was swarmed by Mimi and smothered with affectionate hugs and cheek-kisses. 

"My poor, poor baby!" Mimi gushed, looping her arm around Miyako's waist and guiding her to where Sora was already hard at work on a strawberry parfait. "Has the mean old goddess of love come and kicked your ass again?" Mimi gently shoved Miyako down next to Sora in the booth then squeezed in on Miyako's other side. It was a tight fit, but it was traditional. All members of the Chosen Girls' Club were required to sit on the same side of the booth. 

Sora made room for her friends and took a last bite of ice cream. "Hush, Mimi," she said sternly. "You're not helping." 

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Of course I am," she huffed. "I'm being supportive." 

"Of course you are," Sora assured her with a roll of her brown eyes. "Now let's move on. Miyako, Mimi's already briefed me on the situation. We'll just need a few details from your side." 

Miyako gave Mimi a questioning glance, one eyebrow raised. 

"Oh, you look like Izzy when you do that!" Mimi squealed, flinging her arms once more around Miyako's neck. 

"How'd you find out what happened with Koushirou?" Miyako asked, fending off Mimi's exuberance enough to speak. 

"I have my sources," Mimi announced loftily. 

"She's been reading Jyou's email," Sora noted, looking torn between laughter and faint disapproval of Mimi's methods. 

"He keeps leaving the computer unattended when I spend the night and I always wake up before him in the mornings and . . . well . . ." Mimi shrugged. 

Miyako grinned. "Mimi, you're wonderful." 

"I know," Mimi agreed. 

"If you've been reading Koushirou's emails to Jyou then you'll be able to help me figure out what the hell's up with him!" Miyako beamed and flagged down one of the waiters. "A parfait for me, please. Peanut butter fudge triple-ripple. Extra chocolate sauce. Thanks, cutie." She winked and blew him a kiss. 

The waiter was obviously a recent addition to the Parlor's staff since he was so astonished by Miyako that he nearly dropped the tray full of malts that he was toting. He looked faintly panicked as he scurried off to the kitchen. 

Sora chuckled and took another bite of her parfait. "Do you ever get tired of man-baiting, Miyako?" From anyone else the question might have seemed catty or nasty, but Sora's smile was so warm that Miyako couldn't resist impulsively hugging her. 

"Never, Sora dear." Miyako stole a bite of Sora's parfait. "Never." 

"But back to the issue at hand!" Mimi said pointedly. She tapped a large spoon on the laminate surface of the table in an officious sort of way. "I now call this session of the Chosen Girls' Club to order." She paused. "So where the hell is 'Kari?" 

Sora glanced down at her watch. "Probably half-way through giving Takeru the screw of his life, if what Yamato told me is true." 

Miyako snickered. "Oh, it's true," she confirmed. "Teek's graduation present is a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. I helped him wrap it." 

"It's just as well she's not here for this particular session," Mimi noted pensively. "I always get the impression that she sort of disapproves of your operations with your various 'projects,' Miyako." 

"_I_ think she's still holding a grudge back from when you were sleeping with Takeru," Sora countered with a sly glance at Miyako. 

Miyako gaped. "She _knew_?!" Her expression crumpled, cheeks uncharacteristically flushed in embarrassment. "Aw, shit." 

"I think she guessed," Sora explained gently. "It wasn't hard. You have this certain _look_ that you give all the people you're sleeping with. And for a while, you were _definitely_ giving it to Takeru." 

"It was all for 'Kari's sake!" Miyako wailed. "Teek was asking for advice and one thing led to another and . . ." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I would never have done it if I hadn't heard about their disastrous first time. I mean, Takeru's hot and all, but he kept shouting out Hikari's name when we were having sex. That's definitely _not_ what I look for in a man . . ." 

Mimi patted Miyako consolingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, honey. She'll get over it. Just give her a little more time. You're pretty much her best friend, aside from Takeru. She loves you, Miya." 

Miyako sighed. "Maybe," she conceded miserably. 

"But this isn't the point," Sora broke in. "We're here to help with your Koushirou problems." 

"Thanks, Sora," Mimi said, blowing her old friend a kiss. "There are two major questions we have to deal with here. The first is less important. We need to find out what made Izzy act so . . . forward with you yesterday afternoon, Miyako." 

"That's the 'less important' question?" Miyako was visibly puzzled. The waiter brought her dessert and was barely thanked, she was so intent upon Mimi. 

"The more important question concerns you, Miyako," Sora continued pointedly. 

"Yeah, what the _hell_ were you _thinking_ yesterday?" Mimi seemed completely baffled by the reports she heard of Miyako's behavior. "I mean, just when Koushirou was starting to warm up to you, you run away. Were you or were you not trying to nab the boy?" 

"Yes, but I was all prepared to come on as this innocent waif hoping for forgiveness!" Miyako wailed. "So then I found out that he'd forgiven me long, long ago. And then he started acting weird and the rest is history." She stuffed an enormous spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, wincing at the intense cold. "I don't think I've ever had to deal with something like this before, girls." 

"You've never had to deal with a boy who had the hots for you?" Mimi snorted. "That's bull, darling. _Everyone_ has the hots for you, Miyako. And you damn well know it. There's something else going on here, isn't there?" 

"But Izzy never wanted me like all the other boys!" Miyako said quickly. "No matter what Teek says about Izzy pining away for me all through school. Takeru's so full of shit, sometimes." She rolled her eyes. 

Sora was watching Miyako's face very carefully through her tirade. She was excellent at reading facial expressions and she knew her friend very well. "How do _you_ feel about Koushirou?" she finally asked in a gentle voice, her eyes serious. 

Miyako shrugged helplessly. "I've always liked Izzy," she said, voice wavering a little. "He was one of my first crushes, you know." She paused and threw Sora a suspicious look. "But I'm not in love with him or anything, if that's what you're getting at. I don't have time for that sort of idiocy." 

"I don't doubt you," Sora assured the younger girl. "I just think that this situation is more complicated than that whole mess with Jyou last time." 

"He's forgiven you, by the way," Mimi chimed in. "You hurt Izzy -- and Jyou by association -- but they've both forgiven you." She sighed and ran her finely lacquered fingernails through Miyako's long, silky hair. "Have you forgiven yourself, Miya?" 

Miyako closed her eyes. This afternoon was turning into some sort of hellish game of Twenty Questions and she still had no idea how to deal with Koushirou. "Maybe?" Miyako was terribly unsure of herself and she didn't like the feeling. 

"It's okay to feel guilty about this, Miyako," Sora murmured, wrapping an arm around Miyako's shoulder. Mimi did likewise and the three shared an awkward hug -- as best they could seated in a row in the ice cream parlor's booth. 

"I've been pretty silly, haven't I?" Miyako finally said, sniffling and gently withdrawing from her friends' embrace. "I guess I've just been letting this whole Izzy situation freak me out too much." 

"Nah, it's not your fault, Miya," Mimi assured her warmly. "It's been a few years since you've spent time with him and he's changed." 

"I think I should just give up on the whole thing," Miyako mourned. "I like Izzy well enough, but I'm not sure I can keep up this up. He already knows about my Grand Plan to date all of the Chosen." 

"_Everyone_ knows about the Plan, Miyako," Sora noted wryly. 

"Was it supposed to be a secret?" Mimi asked, looking mildly surprised. 

Miyako began to laugh, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I think so, but I ended up telling pretty much everyone, and they told anyone I hadn't spoken to. Never mind. I won't be able to finish with the Plan anyway. Izzy's not worth risking our friendship over, Jyou's off-limits, and Hikari's completely out of the question." 

"What about Yamato?" Sora asked, a little stiffly. 

Miyako rolled her eyes. "Between you and Taichi, I can't even get him to _look_ at me. And believe me, I've tried." 

Mimi was making frantic, highly unsubtle gestures at Miyako in a belated attempt to get her to shut up, but she wasn't quick enough. Miyako clapped her hands over her mouth and stared, horrified, at Sora. _Oh, shit. I didn't mean to spill the beans about Yamato and Tai. The boys are going to kill me. Not to mention Mimi . . ._

"What does Tai have to do with Yamato?" Sora asked, quietly confused. There was a hint of worry in her warm brown eyes that suggested she had a few theories of her own. 

"Well . . ." Miyako temporized carefully, "Both Taichi and Yamato adore you, of course . . ." 

"So why would Tai be keeping Matt from dating you?" Sora insisted. 

"Well . . ." Miyako began again. She gave Mimi a pleading glance. 

"Sora, who do you love more, Taichi or Yamato?" Mimi asked seriously, coming to the rescue. 

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Sora demanded. 

"Just answer the question," Miyako suggested. 

Sora sighed. "They both know that I could never choose between them. Yamato and Tai are both like parts of me. It would be like cutting my arm of to lose either one of them. It makes dating difficult, but alternating between them is the best I can do . . ." 

"If you were to ask Yamato the same question," Mimi said gently, "He wouldn't be able to choose between you and Taichi. And Taichi feels the same way about you and Yamato." 

"There's so much love between the three of you that it makes the rest of us positively nauseous sometimes," Miyako couldn't resist adding. 

Sora's mouth was slightly open, her eyes unfocused. She moistened her lips with her tongue and continued staring intently at nothing. 

"Sora, darling?" Mimi reached out to gently touch her friend. 

"Tai . . . and Yamato . . ?" Sora blinked, gaze still fixed on the opposite side of the booth. She nibbled on her lower lip. "But how could that . . ?" Then, suddenly, she began to blush. 

"Ah, now she gets it," Miyako murmured. 

"So, let me get this straight." Sora suddenly straightened from her dreamy reverie. "Both Yamato and Taichi want me, right?" Mimi and Miyako vigorously nodded. "And they both want each other too?" Her friends nodded again, grinning madly this time. 

"I caught them making out at a bus stop a few months ago," Miyako confirmed. "And they looked like they knew what they were doing." She smiled lasciviously at the memory. There was something undeniably erotic about watching two hot guys kissing and fondling each other. She made a mental note to ask Daisuke and Ken if they'd mind her sitting in on their inevitable snogging sessions. Or even joining in . . . 

Miyako suddenly realized that Sora was speaking to her. 

". . . held out on me!" Sora was shouting accusingly at Miyako and Mimi. "You both knew about this and didn't tell me?!" 

"It wasn't our secret to tell, dear," Mimi said soothingly, trying to calm Sora enough that the entire cafe wouldn't be witness to their conversation. 

"So what are you going to do now, Sora?" Miyako asked. 

"I . . . don't know," Sora answered honestly. 

"Just don't do anything ridiculously stupid," Mimi warned. "If you hurt either Taichi or Yamato, I'll be forced to have words with you." 

"How can I _not_ hurt one of them?" Sora demanded. "I can't have both of them!" 

"Why the hell not?" Miyako was baffled by how much trouble Sora was having with this. Sora prided herself on being a modern, independent woman, yet she was blinded by the social constraints placed on love. "They love you, you love them. Isn't that enough?" 

Sora looked conflicted. "It should be. I know it should. But I've never done anything like this before . . ." She sighed. "I think I need to go talk to Tai and Yamato. We need some sort of resolution here." 

Miyako and Mimi agreed and piled out of the booth to let Sora pass. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't much help to you, Miyako," Sora said. "Koushirou's still a bit of an enigma, even to those of us who've known him longest. I wish you all the luck in the world with him." Suddenly she smiled wickedly. "I think he deserves you, dear." Then without awaiting Miyako's response, she hurried out of the Princess Love-Puff Ice Cream Parlor. The door chimed musically behind her. 

"I wonder what the hell she meant by that," Miyako told Mimi once they were seated once again. 

Mimi's eyes twinkled merrily as she shamelessly stole a huge spoonful of Miyako's swiftly melting parfait. "I have absolutely no idea, darling," she lied cheerfully.   
  
  
  
  
  


Next Time: Now that Miyako has gained invaluable advice from her spiritual sisters, she's forced into another confrontation with Koushirou. Will she fare better than last time? We can only hope so. Mimi certainly thinks so. If not, Miyako may be forced to live vicariously through Sora, who's just beginning to explore the possibilities of having two boyfriends at the same time. And if nothing works out with Izzy, maybe Miyako can work out some sort of timeshare deal with Daisuke and Ken . . . 


	5. She Makes Me Wait

**Bed of Nails   
A Digimon Fanfiction   
by Kit Spooner**

Disclaimer: Oh, just sod off! (And apologies to U2 and whoever wrote 'Whatever Lola Wants') 

Warnings: Might as well try to be a bit more succinct about the warnings this time. Anyway. This fic features several random pairings (Kouyako, Kensuke, Yamasorachi, Jyoumi, and hints of all sorts of other crap) and frank, explicit discussions of sex, peppered with relatively inappropriate butchering of the English language. Oh, and a healthy dose of four-letter words. Funfun. 

Why am I doing this, you ask? Well, I think we're all in agreement that the end of Digimon 02 was a piece of guttertripe and wasn't worthy of its air-time. It also sucked big, fat monkey ass. And I _like_ my pairings. I think they even make sense. Kinda. 

Moving right along . . . 

Last Time: Daisuke laughed at Miyako. So did Mimi. So did Sora. Then Miyako accidentally spilled the beans about Taichi and Yamato and The Bus-Stop Incident. And then there was no more laughter. And poor Miyako was stuck imagining the delightful possibilities of having two boyfriends at once. "But was that really such a good idea?" 

_Whatever Lola wants_   
_Lola gets_   
_And little man, little Lola wants you_   
_Make up your mind to have no regrets_   
_Recline yourself, resign yourself, you're through_   
_I always get what I aim for_   
_And your heart'n soul is what I came for_   
  
_Whatever Lola wants_   
_Lola gets,_   
_Take off your coat_   
_Don't you know you can't win?_   
_You're no exception to the rule,_   
_I'm irresistible, you fool, give in!...Give in!...Give in!_   
  
  
  
  
Part Four: She Makes Me Wait   
  
  
  
"So," said Koushirou, looking at his shoes. 

"Hmm?" Miyako paused in the process of closing up her account on the lab's computer. 

"Are you busy this afternoon?" Koushirou wasn't blushing, but he was shaking slightly. Miyako couldn't really tell whether it was out of fear, embarrassment or something else entirely. 

"I'm supposed to meet with Mimi to help her prep for her interview tomorrow," Miyako said carefully, still studying Koushirou's expression for a clue to his motives. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought he was trying to ask her on a date. If he _was_, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. 

"Oh," Koushirou said. "I see." His expression grew a bit stony, his eyes darting in search of an escape route. 

None were forthcoming. "I was actually going to ask you if you were busy tomorrow after class," Miyako replied quickly. "I wanted to get a little help with the midterm exam." 

"You don't need help with the exam, Miyako," Koushirou noted, one eyebrow raised. 

"Well, you sure you don't want to buy me a soda or something?" Miyako pressed, not skipping a beat. "I mean, if you're busy and all . . ." 

"I'm not busy!" Koushirou said, almost immediately. _Then_ he blushed. And then he looked down at his shoes again. They were a bit scuffed. 

Miyako's smile was brilliant, enough to make Koushirou choke slightly when he glanced back up at her. "Wonderful. I'll see you tomorrow then?" 

Koushirou nodded and looked a little bemused as she spun and strode off down the hallway, backpack slung over her shoulder. It wasn't until he was almost done shutting the computer lab down that he realized that she'd left her planner behind.   
  
  
  
  
"Success!" Miyako caroled as she came skipping in through Mimi's doorway. 

Mimi, stunning in her scarlet-trimmed business suit and matching pumps, turned from the mirror to beam proudly at her friend. "I knew you'd manage it, dear." 

It would have been yet another impromptu session of the Chosen Girls' Club but only Mimi had been free. Hikari had been busy and Sora hadn't even replied to the hastily composed email. Miyako hoped Sora was spending some quality time with _both_ her boys. Since Mimi was really the one that Miyako wanted to talk to, however, the whole thing worked out for the best. 

"He made a really, _really_ awkward attempt at asking me out this afternoon, but I decided it might be better to let him stew a while," Miyako dropped heavily down onto Mimi's bed, shifting discarded clothing and underwear out of the way. 

"How long are you making him wait?" Mimi asked curiously, coming to sit next to her young protégée. 

"Until tomorrow afternoon," Miyako answered cheerfully. 

"Only 24 hours?" Mimi shook her head and in her best Crusty Old Hermit voice, intoned, "Your impatience will be your undoing, my child." 

"Well, I saw no reason to be particularly cruel," Miyako noted, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Once I finally got a bite, it seemed a bit pointless to make him suffer through the traditional one-week waiting period." 

"Perhaps you're right, Miyako," Mimi admitted, rising from the bed and pacing once more to the full-length mirror. "Izzy was never very good with social situations and making him wait more than a day or so could very well kill the boy." 

"That's kind of what I figured," Miyako agreed, slouching back against Mimi's pillow-littered bed. 

Silence fell as Mimi began to experiment with possible hairstyles to complement her outfit. 

"You look very nice," Miyako eventually told her friend. It was sort of a pointless remark, since Mimi always looked fabulous, but Miyako felt obliged to make it anyway. 

"Thanks, dear," Mimi said, throwing Miyako a dimpled smile through the mirror. "I had to buy it specially for my interview tomorrow." She returned to admiring herself. "Would you believe I've never owned a suit before?" 

"Mmm," Miyako said vaguely. 

Miyako sat quietly on the bed once more, watching Mimi's nimble fingers work. Each new hairstyle was examined critically, frowned at, and eventually discarded with a brisk toss of her head. It was just as Mimi was adding a few final hairpins to her modified French twist that Miyako finally broke. 

"It's just not fair!" she exclaimed irritably, flinging one of Mimi's smaller pillows at the wall. "If Izzy wasn't such a fucking idiot we might already be past all of this preliminary flirting crap and well into the serious screwing phase!" 

Mimi paused, then turned to face the younger girl, her expression uncharacteristically solemn. "So this isn't really about Izzy, is it?" she asked gently. 

Miyako scowled. "Of course it's about Izzy! Haven't you been listening?" 

"Well it doesn't sound like you're terribly concerned about building up any sort of real relationship with the guy," Mimi explained calmly. "You're just horny, Miyako. And that's never a good place to be coming from when you're trying to start up a new relationship." 

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Miyako demanded with an embarrassed blush. 

Mimi chuckled. "Miyako? Didn't we go through all of this the other day at the Parlor?" She came and sat next to Miyako on the bed, ducking another small, carelessly thrown pillow. "We know Izzy's been mad about you since elementary school. And you're at least _fond_ of him, in a beyond-boffing sort of way. Hence, this is different from you and Daisuke. Or you and me, for that matter." Mimi smiled, looking rather pleased with her reasoning. "QED, a Relationship." 

"QED? Do you even know what the hell that means, Mimi?" Miyako suspected Jyou had something to do with her increasingly eclectic vocabulary. "Never mind, it's not important. What _is_ important is that, relationship or no, this thing with Izzy is driving me positively batty." She absently picked up one of Mimi's discarded bras and used the elastic to sling-shot it across the room. 

"You need to get laid," Mimi interpreted. 

"Yes!" Miyako almost shrieked. "It's been weeks!" 

"What about Daisuke?" Mimi suggested helpfully. "I mean, he's always been the solution in the past, right?" 

Miyako allowed her head to flop forward, hiding her face in her hands. "He's finally decided to go after Ken and I refuse to do anything to jeopardize that." She sighed heavily and lifted her face. "Shit, it took Dai years to be able to admit that he was even _attracted_ to the boy, never mind get up the courage to actually pursue him. Do you have any idea how much work I put into getting those two together?" 

"Yes, I'm afraid I do have an idea," Mimi replied. "You've reminded me fairly regularly. It took you 'years and years of hard work' to give them enough confidence about themselves and each other." She paused and gave Miyako an inquisitive stare. "Was that why you slept with Ken? To give him enough self-confidence to deal with Daisuke?" 

Miyako gave the older girl a crooked little smirk, half-hidden by her hair. "Well, it's one of the reasons, of course. It took me a while to actually convince him that he was not only fucking gorgeous but also a pretty damn good fuck." She sat up and brushed her hair from her face. "Of course, my ulterior motives weren't exactly at the forefront when we were going out. And hell, you'd screw Ken too if you got the chance. Am I right?" 

Mimi got a dreamy expression on her face. "Oh, god, yes! The boy's way too beautiful for his own good. He looks like a shoujo manga hero or something with his hair and those eyes and all that lovely angst!" She clasped her hands beneath her chin, doing an admirable impression of a shoujo manga heroine. All she needed to complete the illusion was a sudden shower of cherry blossoms. 

Miyako giggled. "Somehow I thought you'd understand my motivation, Mimi." She lounged back against the pillows once more. "But the problem is that I've really run out of available friends-with-benefits at the moment. Dai's willing but I won't; I'm willing but Teek won't." She shook her head. "And besides, I'd actually sort of feel guilty about shagging someone else after expressing such interest in Izzy." 

"Guilt?" Mimi looked appropriately aghast, despite the smile that she couldn't quite get rid of. "Miyako the Manslayer is beginning to grow a conscience? Oh, what is the world coming to when Miyako, the Heartless Tramp of Odaiba, pauses to contemplate _morals_?!" 

"Hey! I'm not a Heartless Tramp!" Miyako replied. She didn't sound terribly hurt. "I've got a heart in here somewhere . . ." She pressed a hand to her bosom. 

"Of course you have one," Mimi said consolingly. "But either way, I think I have the solution to your little problem." 

"You have some sort of aphrodisiac that I can slip into Izzy's coffee to make him drag me off into a supply closet so that we can have sex until we can't walk?" Miyako asked breathlessly. 

"No, even better," Mimi said smugly. "I got a new load of delectable yaoi manga for your consumption, darling." 

Stars sparkled in Miyako's eyes as she gazed adoringly at her mentor. "You're a goddess!" 

"I know," Mimi said with a nod. "Now I just need to remember where I put them . . ." She hauled herself up off the bed and began rifling through the stacks of papers and manga next to her desk. 

"You know, your room is a lot messier than one might expect," Miyako noted after a moment. 

"Tidiness impedes my creativity," Mimi said pompously, not looking up from her search. She would produce pretty gay boys for her friend, or so help her! 

"And you might want to think about vacuuming," Miyako added, picking bits of lint and strands of golden-brown hair from the bottom of her dingy white socks.   
  
  
  
  
Jyou's apartment was much neater than one might have expected. And he was in the process of tidying it further when his doorbell rang. Unfortunately, he couldn't hear the electronic chime over the noise of his vacuum cleaner. 

Perhaps a minute later, however, he _did_ hear the furious pounding of a fist against the aluminum and wood of his door. 

Jyou immediately turned off the vacuum and strode to the door, which continued to resonate with each knock. "Keep your damn pants on!" he bellowed. "I'm moving as fast as I can!" He flung the door open. "What the hell do you . . . oh." 

Koushirou looked truly pathetic when he asked, "Can I come in?" 

"Uh, sure," Jyou said belatedly after the younger boy pushed past him into the apartment, tie askew, a day planner tucked under his arm. 

"I will _never_, as long as I live, even _begin_ to understand what the hell Yolei wants from me!" Koushirou declared as he flopped down onto Jyou's sofa. 

Jyou winced. "She after you again?" he asked sympathetically, settling carefully down into the armchair opposite the sofa. 

"I have no idea!" Koushirou wailed with an expansive hand gesture. "I kind of thought so a few days ago when she turned up — I told you all this, right? — at the class I'm assisting with and started flirting with me or at least I think it was flirting — one can never be sure with Yolei — but then she ran away when I started to — ahem — never mind that because then earlier today she asked me out and I'll be _damned_ if I can figure out what's going on." He fell silent, rather out of breath. 

Jyou gave Koushirou a long, steady look, then nodded knowingly. "You, my friend, need a beer or three." He rose and disappeared into the small, efficiency kitchen. 

"Yeah, so now I'm supposed to go buy her a soda or something-or-other tomorrow after class and I'm not really sure if that's what she wants me to do or whether it's a euphemism for something dirty," Koushirou added after a moment as he listened to the sounds of the refrigerator door and the clank of glass bottles. 

"Or it could be a euphemism for attacking your emotional well-being and turning you into a little bundle of anger and resentment for another year," Jyou suggested as he reappeared with three beers in each hand. 

"I . . . don't think so, this time," Koushirou replied hesitantly. "On that first day of class, I talked to her. Not for very long, but she did apologize." 

Jyou tossed Koushirou a beer and raised an eyebrow in practiced skepticism. "Was she for real or was she just playing you like last time?" 

"I think she really meant it." He suddenly flushed. "Or at least it felt like it at the time. She looked so upset that I tried to . . . comfort her, sort of." 

"Oh, hell," Jyou said. "What does that entail, exactly?" 

"I held her," Koushirou replied a bit sheepishly. "But when I tried to kiss her she made some lame excuse about Motomiya and escaped on the bus." 

Jyou looked rather impressed. "Wow, you were repulsed by _Miyako_," he noted. "That's got to be worth something." 

Koushirou made a rude gesture and then opened his beer on the edge of the battered coffee table. "Her planner isn't helping matters, either," he added. 

"Eh?" Jyou chose the more traditional bottle-opening method that was attached to his keychain. 

Koushirou tossed the day planner onto the table and glared at it a bit. "Yolei left it behind in lab today." 

"And you invaded her privacy by reading it?" Jyou finished. 

Koushirou nodded and glared more. 

"Good for you," Jyou congratulated. "If I could get hold of any of Mimi's planners or journals I'd read 'em." He reached for the book. "Does she have anything interesting written down?" 

Koushirou grabbed the planner before Jyou could. "Nothing you'll get to read, you nosy bastard," he replied cheerfully. "Though there _is_ the most bizarre listing of us Chosen that I've ever seen. Her commentary is fascinating." He flipped to the back of the book, looking for that particular spot. 

Jyou frowned. "Is it _that_ List?" he asked, a little aghast. 

"Which List?" Koushirou asked curiously. "You mean the one she keeps of all the Dated and Not Dated Chosen?" He smiled rather slyly. "Yes, it's that List." He found the right page and grinned. "Daisuke has the briefest commentary of us all: 'Well, duh!'" 

"What's it say by my name?" Jyou asked, trying to lean in across the coffee table and catch a glimpse. 

"Well, you're in the Not Dated column with a note that declares you a 'nasty-ass chicken-legged freak with slimy hair and unfashionable glasses — would not touch with a ten-foot pole.'" Koushirou sounded smug. 

"What?!" Jyou dove at Koushirou and made a grab for the book. "That can't be right . . ." 

"Actually she just calls you a pompous ass," Koushirou added. "And she says that Mimi's welcome to you, despite your really nice hair." 

Jyou settled back into his armchair. "Oh, well, I suppose that's alright then." 

"By far the most disturbing comment is next to Ken's name," Koushirou continued. "It concerns how sexy she thought he was and how incredible it was when he used his tongue to —" 

"Holy shit! Don't finish that thought!" Jyou interrupted, looking a bit green about the gills. 

"Anyway," Koushirou said, moving right along. "The most important fact, aside from her commentary on yours truly, is the fact that there are only four people in the Not Dated list, you, Hikari, Yamato, and myself." 

"Didn't we already know all that before?" Jyou asked. Then he gave Koushirou a sly, sidelong glance. "So what'd she say about you that was so interesting?"

"Oh, nothing you'd care about," Koushirou said quickly. "Just a bunch of tripe about my stunning good looks . . ." 

"Bullshit," Jyou added. 

"Anyway!" Koushiro bulldozed through Jyou's objections. "Aside from the fact that Yamato is apparently 'gayer than a tree full of monkeys, except where Sora's concerned,' and Hikari is a 'darling, sweet, sexy girl' who is 'far too straight for her or Takeru's own good,' the commentary is largely about myself. And she has very real reasons for not having dated the other three people on the list. I'm the only real target left, since the rest of you are really off-limits." 

"So you think she's just using you to complete the collection?" Jyou asked seriously. 

"I'd think that if that was the case, she wouldn't have commented on my pants here so much," Koushirou noted. 

Jyou settled back into his chair and took a long swig of beer. "You could be right, you know." He idly ran his thumb around the mouth of his beer bottle. "She _has_ always favored you over most of the rest of us." 

"What?" Koushirou looked startled. 

"Well, hell, where have you been, these last six years, you moron?" Jyou looked torn between amusement and frustration. "Her first crush was on Yamato, of course, but her crush on you was the worst of them all, with the possible exception of Ken, who she practically _stalked_ for a couple years. But through it all, it was _you_ she kept coming back to." He paused. "And I can see from your face that no one bothered to tell you about all of this before now . . ." 

"Jyou." The younger boy was pale and very still. "You mean to tell me that if I'd exerted just the slightest effort over the years, I probably could have not only nabbed the girl I've been daydreaming about since I was thirteen, but I could have saved all of us the trouble of her thrice-damned Chosen Collection?!" 

"Hmm, you could be right about all of that . . ." Jyou admitted. 

Koushirou drained most of his beer in a single gulp, choked, coughed a bit, then glared at Jyou through cough-induced tears. "Remind me why you're my friend?" 

"Because I made sure you didn't get trampled by Miyako's libido two years ago?" 

"Yeah, because you somehow convinced me that all she wanted was my name checked off the list and as a result I lost a great opportunity with a great girl I've adored since middle school." 

Jyou pursed his lips. "So you're really going to pursue her this time, aren't you?" 

"Yep," Koushirou replied, closing the day planner. 

"And you aren't concerned by the fact that you seem to be her target because you're the last of the Not Dated people — of either gender — to remain single?" 

"Not at all," Koushirou said, rising from the sofa and striding toward the door. 

Jyou watched his friend and smiled to himself. "Mimi told me, years ago, that Miyako would be the one to break you for good." 

Koushirou opened the door. "And yet, I think I'll still buy her a soda tomorrow and, if she'll let me, I'll kiss her. If she breaks me again . . . well, I think I'd probably still take the risk . . ." He stepped out into the hall and quietly closed the door behind him. 

Jyou grinned at the closed door for a long moment. 

"Well, damn. That only took one beer." 

He locked the door behind Koushirou. 

"I need to tell Mimi about all of this . . ."   
  
  
  
  
Next Time: With these not-so-earth-shattering revelations under his belt, will Koushirou now stand a chance when he comes up against Miyako? Will the pursuer turn pursued? Or will Miyako have her wicked way with him and then dump him in favor of both Daisuke _and_ Ken? Ha!   



End file.
